


Every Cloud

by cassie_black



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:44:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassie_black/pseuds/cassie_black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cut backs at work seem like the end of the world to Merlin.  But a new job at Pendragon's Restaurant might just be his silver lining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Cloud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amythystluna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythystluna/gifts).



> Thank you to the mods for their endless patience, to D who betad this into shape, and to everyone who gives up a little of their time to read it. Happy Holidays, everyone!

The rain that hadn't looked all that threatening when Merlin left work now beat down steadily on him. It slicked his hair to his scalp and trickled down into his eyes. Added to which the roads were surprisingly busy for the time of night, so not only was he taking his life into his hands on the slippery tarmac, there was also the constant spray of water from passing cars that ensured his entire body was evenly soaked.

It was times like this that had Merlin question his _green_ lifestyle choices, and think longingly of that Oyster card Gwen had presented him with as only sort of a joke for his birthday. The London Transport system might be cramped and polluted, but right then even that seemed an appealing option.

Fortunately work was not too far from home, so twenty minutes later Merlin was comfortably ensconced on the sofa, wrapped tightly in his Star Wars snuggy, with only the occasional shiver to remind him of his earlier plight.

"Poor baby. You look frozen still."

Normally Merlin would have scolded Gwen soundly for touching his ears, but they really were freezing, and her touch, however brief, provided much needed warmth. Besides, Gwen also had a steaming cup of tea for him in her other hand, so Merlin decided it would be churlish to complain.

"I feel it," Merlin agreed, as he took the mug and wrapped his hands round it eagerly. "Thanks."

Gwen flopped down on the sofa beside him – her gaze intent.

"What?" Merlin could feel his fingers now so it made him a little more predisposed to pleasantries, but he hated being stared at, and Gwen bloody well knew that.

"You're in a mood."

Merlin took large gulp of hot tea and took a moment to savour the pleasant rush of heat. "You try biking home in that," he gestured to the window where the rain still beat a steady pattern, "and then see how good you feel."

Gwen shook her head. "It's more than that. Your forehead's doing that scrunchy thing."

Prevaricating was pointless with Gwen. Sweet and kind she might be, but she was also like a dog with a bone when she thought something was wrong.

"They're cutting my hours at the coffee shop." Just admitting the words out loud made Merlin feel slightly sick. His finances were tight enough as it was, there was no way he'd be able to pay his rent on the new money.

"Oh, Merlin." Gwen shuffled closer and curled into his side. "What happened?"

"Ever since that Starbucks opened up the road, we've just not been that busy. There isn't enough work for us all." Merlin held back on his rant about corporate giants and their destruction of the British high street – his own news kind of made the point for him.

Gwen placed her hand on his arm and squeezed gently. "What will you do now?" 

"Get a job at Starbucks?" Merlin followed it up with a laugh that was only slightly bitter.

Gwen followed suit. "Well, green is your colour," she said.

When the laughter faded the nausea returned and Merlin couldn't avoid the stark reality of his situation. He needed a new job, and fast. And it had to be something he could fit around his studies as well. 

"I'm screwed," he said bluntly.

"Don't be silly." Gwen shifted in her seat so she was looking at him. "You haven't even started looking for another job – how can you possibly know that?"

"I had a look at lunchtime – all anyone wants at this time of year is temporary staff for Christmas, and then I'd just be in the exact same position come January."

"Even if that is true, which I doubt, at least it's better than nothing, right? It'll give you a bit of breathing space."

"I suppose." Merlin hated it when Gwen was rational like this – it made it much harder for him to wallow in melancholy." But you know how I am with interviews – it's bad enough I'll have to go through it once, but twice in such a short space of time..." He tailed off and shook his head. "I just don't know."

"Well," Gwen started slowly, "I know you said you didn't want to wait tables, and you're not exactly Arthur's biggest fan, but there is a job going at the restaurant."

Merlin opened his mouth to rebut the idea instantly but his common sense shut it again. He knew from Gwen that _Pendragon's_ did pay reasonably well, and the tips she brought home some nights were very impressive, but there was still the issue of Arthur Pendragon himself. To say Merlin wasn't his biggest fan was an understatement – he'd only met the arrogant git once, when Gwen had taken him along to their Christmas party. But that one encounter had been enough to form his opinion irrevocably. 

"He's not as bad as you think, you know. You just met him at a bad time."

"Really?" Merlin raised one eyebrow sceptically. "That's not what you said when he yelled at you."

"He yells at everyone. He's a chef. Apart from cooking, that's like their main occupation."

"He made you _cry_ , Gwen."

Gwen flushed a little at the reminder. "It was just that one time," she said. "And in his defence, I think it had more to do with the time of the month than anything he said."

Merlin scrunched his nose. "More than I needed to know." He took one last gulp of his tea, draining the cup, and then set it down on the side table. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to apply, right? If nothing else it'll give me interview experience. " 

Merlin sounded less than convinced, but Gwen beamed brightly. "I'll speak to Morgana tomorrow," she said. "Now, budge up and share this blanket – I'm freezing."

~~~

"You look _fine_." 

Merlin had been fretting about his appearance for the last hour or so, and judging from her tone, it was starting to wear on Gwen's nerves.

"Sorry," he said, and offered a sheepish smile. But couldn't stop himself from adjusting his tie all the same.

"Leave it." Gwen batted his fingers away and then gestured to the large wooden door in front of them. "Come on then," she said, and twisted the handle.

"You're coming in with me?" Merlin didn't even try to keep the hope out of his voice.

"Just inside," Gwen replied, talking over her shoulder as she entered the building. "I'm not coming into your interview with you, if that's what you mean."

"Oh." He'd known that was the case really – how stupid would it have looked anyway – but Merlin couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

Merlin had heard enough about _Pendragon's_ from Gwen that he was somewhat prepared for its 1920's-style opulence. But neither that nor Gwen's presence at his side was enough to take away the wave of nausea that washed over him.

Interviews were like Merlin's Waterloo – he hated them, invariably failed at them, and had little confidence that today's exercise would go any different. But once his Ph.D was finished, Merlin knew he was going to have to look for an actual 'proper' job and he would have to get used to this process sooner or later.

So he sucked in a deep breath and stepped forward to meet possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and was proud when his hand trembled only slightly.

"You must be Merlin," Morgana – or at least, he assumed it was – said, and took his hand in a surprisingly firm grip. With her carefully waved hair and slick of red lipstick, she looked entirely at home in the surroundings.

It took Merlin a moment to reply – it would have taken longer were it not for a sharp nudge from Gwen's elbow. "Yes...uh...nice to meet you."

Morgana's mouth curved into a bright smile. "Don't be nervous," she said, as she gestured to a door behind them. "We're all rather nice here." She came to a halt in the doorway and turned to look at Merlin. "Well, apart from Arthur. But you can't have everything."

Merlin could have sworn he heard Gwen snort in amusement, but then the door swung closed behind him, and he found himself in a room with Morgana and a man who Merlin was fairly sure he could develop quite a large crush on given a bit more time in his company.

Merlin slipped off his coat and took the proffered seat – he'd googled interview techniques extensively the night before, but try as he might he just couldn't work out how to sit right. He shifted several times in the chair before he gave up.

Attractive Man leant forward a little and smiled beatifically. "Relax," he said, a voice that further cemented Merlin's attraction. "We don't bite."

The glance he shot sideways at Morgana suggested otherwise, but Merlin didn't feel it appropriate to point out, so offered a nervous laugh instead.

Morgana removed some papers from a folder and settled them on the desk in front of her. "This is Leon," she said and gestured negligently to the man at her side. "He's our Maître'd. I hope you don't mind if he sits in with us today?"

Merlin shook his head emphatically. "Not at all," he said, and was more than a little relieved when his voice came out in its usual register.

"Good. Now, can I get you a drink before we start? Coffee?" she asked, indicating the cafetiere on the side of the desk.

"No, thank you. I get enough of that at work as it is."

Morgana frowned for a moment before it cleared. "Ah yes," she flipped through Merlin's C.V. "you work at _Browns_ over on Montague Street."

Merlin shifted in his seat until he was perched near the edge and nodded. "Yes. I've been there for the last four years. But they're cutting back everyone's hours and I can't manage on what they're offering me now."

"Business slow?" Leon asked as he reached for the cafetiere and pressed the plunger slowly. 

Merlin nodded again. "The new Starbucks has hit it hard."

Leon nodded in understanding, while Morgana smiled brightly at Merlin. "Well," she said, "that's one thing you won't have to worry about here. We have a waiting list of over...how long is it now?" she turned to Leon in question.

"Six weeks at last count," Leon replied. "We're as busy now as we were when we first opened."

Morgana gave him a smile that suggested to Merlin there was something more than work colleagues between them, and made a mental note to quiz Gwen on the subject later. "My mum ate here while she was up in the summer – she still goes on about how amazing the sea bass was even now."

"Your mum has great taste." Morgana flashed him another brilliant smile before returning her attention to the paper in front. "Now, you've waited tables before, right?"

"Uh, I worked at Pizza Express for three years after I started university. I know that's not exactly _Pendragon's"_ he added, "but it's the same basic principle, right?" Merlin wasn't entirely sure that it was – he had a feeling that this restaurant would involve a lot more than making sure the parmesan shakers were kept filled – but it was the best that he had.

Morgana nodded along, so Merlin took that as a good sign. "And you're happy with the prospect of working evenings and weekends?"

Given that they were the only times Merlin was available, it was a moot question. "That would be ideal for me, to be honest. I'm either at uni or in the library during the day."

"You're doing a Ph.D aren't you?" Morgana asked, flicking through his C.V. obviously in search of that information. "At least I'll know where to come when I want some intelligent conversation."  
"Cheers," Leon said, and gave Morgana a playful shove. "I'll remember that."

They laughed and Merlin couldn't help but join in. He was starting to see why Gwen liked working here – it would be worth putting up with Arthur Pendragon if he got to work with people like this every day. The fact that Leon was very easy on the eyes didn't hurt, and then there'd been that barman he'd caught a glimpse of on the way in. No, Merlin definitely wouldn't mind working there.

"So, Merlin," Leon turned to face him again, "What is it you're—"

"Morgana!"

Conversation was brought to an abrupt halt by a series of crashing noises outside the door.

"Fucking hell! Morgana, where are you?"

Merlin didn't have to work at _Pendragon's_ to recognise the not-so-dulcet tones. He'd been hoping to put off this particular encounter as long as possible. But then the door banged open and he had no choice in the matter.

"There you are. Didn't you hear me shouting?"

Merlin decided against turning round in his seat, so he saw the look of irritation pass over Morgana's face.

"There are people in Southend who probably heard you, Arthur. But in case it escaped your attention, I'm a little busy here." She indicated Merlin with a nod, and Merlin's heart sank. He could quite easily live without meeting Arthur, and certainly not when he was in such an apparent bad mood.

Merlin remained facing forward – a quiet voice in the back of his head telling him _not to make eye contact_ , as if he were dealing with a rabid dog. It proved to be a pointless gesture however, as Arthur stepped closer to the desk and into his line of vision.

"You look familiar," he said. "Why is that?"

Merlin looked up reluctantly and then promptly wished he hadn't. Even when Arthur had been an arrogant prat the first time they'd met, Merlin had still been able to appreciate how good looking he was – Merlin wasn't blind, after all. But _this_ Arthur was someone entirely different. Casually dressed in faded blue jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and his hair product-free and flopping in his eyes. Yep, Merlin was officially screwed.

Arthur was still waiting for an answer.

"I'm a friend of Gwen's," Merlin explained eventually, and he could only hope that his ears weren't as bright red as they felt. "We met at the Christmas party last year."

Arthur's brow creased for a moment, then cleared. "Ah, the _student_ ," he said, with as much derision on that one word as if he'd just said _village idiot_. "Just what we need. Another intellectual who thinks he's too good to clear tables." Arthur turned abruptly then and headed for the door – Merlin was still too busy reeling from the insult to reply.

"When you're done here, Morgana, I'd like a word."

And then the door slammed behind him, leaving those left in the room quite breathless from the episode.

"Arse," Merlin muttered under his breath. Only not quite as under his breath as he'd thought, because as Leon snorted in amusement, it became clear he'd heard. A glance at Morgana showed a definite smile curving her lips.

"I'm so sorry," Merlin gasped. "I didn't mean...I just..."

"Merlin, don't worry about it." Morgana got to her feet then which very much had Merlin worrying – he needed this job, and it was a fair bet that calling the owner an arse was not the best way to get hired. "It's the truth anyway," Morgana continued. "But you'd better get used to it if you're going to be working here."

"You're offering me the job?" Merlin looked at her in wide-eyed amazement. "Seriously?"

"Welcome aboard." Morgana held out her hand and smirked. "I think you'll fit in here just fine.

~~~

Merlin's first week in his new job went much easier than he expected. The pay was good, the tips even better, and the shifts fit in perfectly around his studies.

There were only two downsides to an otherwise happy work place.

One was that arse Arthur Pendragon and his inexplicable desire to bawl Merlin out for the minutest of offences – like breathing. The other, and most inconvenient of all, was the rather outsized crush Merlin had developed on the aforementioned arse.

It was incomprehensible, Merlin told himself. By rights he ought to hate Arthur, and at times he most certainly did – with a fiery passion. But that didn't stop him watching those skilled hands at work and imagining what they'd feel like against his skin.

He was a masochist, that was the only possible explanation Merlin could come up with.

Gwen said he was only human and that everyone who worked at _Pendragon's_ had fancied Arthur at some point or other. 

Merlin preferred his explanation.

"Think you'll stick it out?"

Merlin looked up from his hunched perch on the back steps and found one of the other chefs smiling down at him. He couldn't help but smile back. Elena had that infectious sort of smile, and, next to Gwen, was the nicest person Merlin had ever met.

"I don't scare that easily," he replied, and then shifted over on the step to offer her a seat.

She sat down and produced what was the weirdest looking cigarette Merlin had ever seen from the pocket of her whites.

"I'm trying to give up," she offered by way of explanation. "Arthur's been going on at me for months – it's the only way to shut him up."

"If only it was that easy for the rest of us," Merlin said and then cursed his lack of brain-to-mouth filter. He remembered Gwen saying Elena and Arthur had been friends for years – they'd trained together or something like that; he really hadn't been paying much attention.

He glanced at her quickly, but she didn't seem to have minded. She was too busy inhaling her fake cigarette with a look of deep dissatisfaction on her face.

"He doesn't mean anything by it, you know," Elena said after a moment's silence. "Arthur, I mean."

Merlin raised one eyebrow sceptically. "So everyone keeps telling me, but it's a little hard to hear when my ears are still ringing from his last rant."

Elena grinned round the filter tip. "Yeah, he can get a bit much sometimes. But it really isn't personal."

She shifted sideways on the step then and looked at Merlin thoughtfully for a moment. Just as the silence was starting to become awkward, and Merlin was racking his brains for any excuse to leave, she put her hand on his arm.

"It's just, he's a perfectionist. And this place," Elena gestured around them, cigarette in hand, "is his life. He puts everything he has into what he does and he can't bear, can't _understand_ when someone else doesn't. Does that make any sense?"

"I suppose so," Merlin said reluctantly, though he privately thought it was a little sad if this was Arthur's _entire_ life. "What you're saying is he berates me constantly because I'm not good enough." He shook his head with a wry smile. "That's such a consolation."

Elena burst out laughing, the noise bright and sharp against the yard's stillness. "That's one way of looking at it." She squeezed Merlin's arm gently before getting to her feet. "But none of us are, not in his eyes. So take _that_ as your consolation." 

She held out her hand then, and when Merlin took it, pulled him to his feet. "Come on, slacker. There's cleaning to be done."

~~~

By the end of Merlin's second week he was really starting to feel at home. Still breakage free, his feet had now got used to the long shifts in uncomfortable shoes, and he actually felt like he knew what he was doing. He no longer had to refer to the 'cheat sheets' he'd begged Gwen to make him for place settings – because who the hell needed that much cutlery and glassware anyway? – and his fingers had achieved that asbestos-like surface that stopped every plate from melting his skin.

Which, in turn, stopped Arthur from mocking him for his delicacy.

In fact, Arthur had stopped mocking him about most things. He still ranted and raved at Merlin as much as he did the others, but Arthur seemed to have decided that Merlin was in no imminent danger of bringing his business into disrepute. 

Still, it didn't stop Merlin almost choking on his tongue in shock once Saturday after work, when Arthur took the seat at the bar next to his and said, "Can I get you a drink?"

In fact, Merlin sat back on his seat and looked around. There were others still there – Gwen and another waitress sorting out tips at the end of the bar, and Lance, the unfairly attractive barman, busily cashing up his till.

"Yes, idiot, I'm talking to you."

There was no mistaking who Arthur was talking to now, and this time he was actually smiling. 

"Oh...err...um, okay?" It ended up coming out as more of a question than a reply, but it was the best Merlin could do.

Arthur's lips quirked with amusement again and Merlin was completely wrong-footed by the whole encounter. It was like he'd stumbled into some sort of parallel universe – one where his boss wasn't a complete wanker and was actually a decent human being instead.

"And what would you _like_ to drink, Merlin. I'm afraid Lance isn’t psychic."

It sounded like friendly enough teasing but that didn’t stop Merlin flushing to the tips of his ears. He looked at Lance because he was nice and friendly and _safe_ , and because Merlin felt entirely too flustered by the whole experience to face Arthur at that point. "I'll just have coke, please."

"You can have something stronger, if you want," Arthur said at this point. "You're off the clock; no one's going to mind."

Once again Merlin was moved to wonder if he was in a parallel universe, only this was one where his blond and rather gorgeous boss was trying to get him drunk. Then the sensible voice at the back of his head, the one that always sounded like Gwen, reminded him he had an overactive imagination.

So he gave a small shake of his head and said, "It's fine, honestly. I don’t really drink that often."

There was a definite awkward pause then that only the occasional click of glasses as Lance went about his business disturbed. 

Arthur cleared his throat and Merlin tensed. Only Lance came over, drinks in hand at that point, so whatever it was he'd been about to say went unsaid – Merlin was relieved and disappointed in equal measure.

But then Lance was gone again.

"Look, Merlin..."

And Merlin did, as if it were an instruction. Arthur was facing the back of the bar instead of him, his elbows resting on the polished surface, and the fingers of his right hand toying with the ring on the index finger of his left. Between that and his boss's rather impressive profile, Merlin wasn't sure where to look. Only the knowledge that Arthur could see him in the bar's mirrored wall stopped him from staring.

"Morgana has pointed out to me that on occasion I can come across as a bit—"

"Of an arse?" One day Merlin was going to learn to think before he spoke, but apparently that day was not today. He resisted the temptation to bash his head against the bar, instead risking a glance at Arthur. "Sorry," he said, as meekly as he could manage. "I didn't mean...I just..."

"It's all right, Merlin." Arthur didn't _seem_ angry, which was something of a miracle. "I wouldn't have put it quite like that myself, but apparently you and Morgana are of a similar opinion."

"Oh." Merlin had no idea what to say next that wasn't likely to get him fired, so he sipped at his drink and prayed that someone would put him out of his misery.

"Anyway," Arthur said after what seemed like an eternity, "I was just trying to say, if I've upset or offended you, then—"

"It's fine, honestly," Merlin said hurriedly. After he'd insulted his boss quite so comprehensively, he thought that halting what looked like a difficult apology was the least he could do. 

"Really?" The look of relief on Arthur’s face made him look younger, boyish almost, and damn if Merlin didn't want to kiss him. Of course, Merlin also wanted to throw him down on the bar and do unspeakable things to him, but given that there was an audience – one that included his best friend – it was probably not wise. "That's good." He nodded as if to himself. "Morgana's very prone to exaggerating."

"I heard that," a voice, seemingly out of the ether, shouts. Arthur looked faintly alarmed, and Merlin was pleased to see he had his own nemesis.

"So you're settling in okay then?"

It took Merlin a while to answer because Arthur was doing that distracting twiddling thing with his ring again, and if he imagined hard enough, Merlin could feel the cold metal ghosting over his skin. "Yeah," he said finally, dragging his gaze up to meet Arthur's. "I think I've got the hang of it now. And everyone's been really nice."

"Apart from your arse of a boss?" 

Merlin was pretty sure that if Arthur smiled at him one more time like that, he would have enslaved him for life. Were it not that they shared the same face, same everything, Merlin would have been convinced that this Arthur and the Arthur that spent ten minutes shouting at him earlier for picking up the wrong plate were entirely different people.

"Oh, I don't know," Merlin said, with a smile of his own. "Turns out he's not so bad after all."

~~~

Merlin tried to put his ridiculous flights of fancy out of his head after that night, because Arthur was just doing the 'polite boss' routine. There was no way that a couple of minutes small talk and a glass of coke amounted to anything more.

No matter how much Gwen encouraged him with her incessant teasing.

Of course, none of this was helped three days later when a friend request popped up on Merlin's Facebook. Because not only did this fuel Gwen's extravagant theories, but it also wiped out an entire afternoon's study for Merlin. Whole chapters of the book he should have been reading were forsaken in the face of access to Arthur's profile and pictures.

"See, I told you," Gwen said triumphantly and jabbed Merlin in the chest with her index finger.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yes, a friend request clearly means that we're heading towards a big gay wedding."

"You could," Gwen said thoughtfully. "It'll be legal here soon."

Merlin laughed. He couldn't help himself. "Because a lack of marriage equality is what's standing in our way."

"Fine, be cynical." Gwen yanked the fridge open and pulled out a bottle of wine. "But I still say he likes you."

"Based on this?" Merlin gestured in the direction of his open laptop.

Gwen swiftly unscrewed the wine and filled herself a glass. Then she walked over to the laptop. "Have you seen how many friends you've got in common?"

Merlin dropped from his perch on the work top and walked over. "What are you on about?"

"This." Gwen jabbed at the screen in a way that had Merlin fearful for its wellbeing. "You have precisely _three_ friends in common. Morgana, Leon, and Lance. And you know why that is?"

"I'm sure you're about to enlighten me." Merlin eyed the bottle of wine and wondered if it wasn't time for him to start drinking more often.

"Because he doesn't friend people at work. Sophia requested him last year sometime – we had to listen to her bitching for days when he declined."

Okay, so maybe that was a little odd, Merlin admitted to himself, although he wasn't sure he'd accept a request from her either. "That doesn't prove anything."

"He talks to you. Actually _talks_."

"Gwen, we've had precisely three conversations, and none of them could in any way be construed as romantic. You're reaching."

"Fine." Gwen huffed. "Think what you like, but I know what I know. And when I'm proved right, I shall expect grovelling."

Merlin took hold of one of her hands in mock solemnity. "Gwen, I promise you that if by some miracle you turn out to be right, I'll happily get on my knees."

"I bet you will." Gwen smirked around the rim of her wine glass, then added, "But only if Arthur asks very nicely, right?"

~~~

It didn't take long before Merlin's new found _friendship_ did the rounds of the restaurant. Considering Merlin himself had remained tight-lipped on the subject, all fingers were most definitely pointing towards Gwen. 

On more than one occasion Merlin happened upon several of his colleagues discussing the issue and putting far too much effort into analysing what it meant. That alone was bad enough – though Merlin was at least grateful they had the sense to do it out of Arthur's hearing. But then Freya, of whom Merlin had previously been rather fond, actually presented him with an astrological chart proving he and Arthur were predestined. Gwen found it all highly amusing. Merlin made a mental note to chuck a red sock in with her next load of whites.

Whilst annoying, Merlin could handle it. All of it, that was, except for Sophia. Who was apparently still smarting rather more than anyone had imagined over her own Facebook rejection. Or at least that's what Merlin assumed anyway. 

He'd had little to do with her during the month he'd been at _Pendragon's_. They'd worked a few of the same shifts, and he'd heard plenty about her from Gwen and some of the others, but having never been on the receiving end of her attentions, he'd reserved judgement. Until now.

"Honestly, Merlin. Don't you know how to lay a table yet?"

Merlin grit his teeth against the words that begged to be let out – but he was getting to the end of his patience. For the last two days, Sophia had taken to following him around, criticising every last thing that he did.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked with a patience he didn't feel.

Sophia let out an affected laugh, and Merlin wondered if he'd get sacked for slapping her. "If you don't know by now, Merlin, then I'm afraid you're in the wrong job." She reached out and shifted the position of a water glass, before adding, "You might be something special at that university of yours, but you're clearly not cut out for this."

"Sophia, table nine still needs laying. I'm sure Merlin can manage this one without your assistance."

Merlin could have kissed Leon for the interruption. He'd been about five seconds away from saying something unretractable. Sophia was not similarly enamoured and appeared to be sucking a lemon.

"But Leon—"

"Table nine, Sophia." Leon's voice was wonderfully calm but in-charge, and Merlin couldn't help wonder if that's how he was in the bedroom. "If Merlin has any questions, I'm quite capable of answering them."

So Sophia went, but the look she gave Merlin as she left spoke volumes.

"Pay no attention to her," Leon said. "I'll get Morgana to have a word."

However much he may have wanted to slap her, the last thing Merlin wanted to do was cause trouble for Sophia. "It's fine, honestly," he said. "There's no need to bother Morgana; I'm sure she's got more important things to do."

Leon's face broke out into a grin as he said, "It's no bother, i promise you. She'll rather enjoy it." He reached out then and moved the water glass back to its original position. "You had it right in the first place."

"Thanks."

"No worries." Leon turned to walk away but stopped in his tracks. He turned back and said, "You're doing well, Merlin. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You must be – Arthur hasn't demanded you be fired once yet."

"I'm honoured," Merlin said with a wry smile.

"You should be. It's quite the compliment."

Not for the first time in his life Merlin wished he could control the way he blushed. "I should probably get back to this now." He nodded at the half finished table.

Leon gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment and then smiled. "Okay. But remember, if anyone starts bothering you again, you can always come to me, or Morgana. I promise she's not as scary as she likes to pretend.

~~~

Leon wasn’t kidding about talking to Morgana as it turned out. Because by the end of his shift that night, Merlin found himself cornered by a _very_ unhappy-looking Sophia who haltingly apologised.

It was as uncomfortable an experience for Merlin as it obviously was for her, and quite blatantly not sincere, but the look Morgana gave Sophia as she walked away left Merlin in no doubt he wouldn't be bothered again.

"I doubt she'll give you any more trouble." Morgana appeared to have read Merlin's thoughts.

"Thanks." Merlin felt that familiar rise of heat in his cheeks again.

"My pleasure." And the smirk on Morgana's face confirmed this was very much the truth. "Now, Emrys, I think it's about time we got to know each other a little better." She slid one arm around Merlin's shoulders in a way that made him a little nervous. "You're coming to the pub with me tonight."

It was a Tuesday night. Merlin wasn't scheduled to work again till Thursday, and he had only one late class the next day. So he said, "Okay." Although he suspected that any attempt at refusal would have been brushed away.

Morgana beamed at him. "Good boy," she said and managed to make Merlin feel all of ten years old. "When you've finished this table you can clock off and we'll get going."

 _We_ , as it turned out, consisted of Merlin, Morgana, Elena and her boyfriend Gwaine who Merlin had seen hanging around the restaurant once or twice, and Lance the barman. So basically Merlin, two beautiful women, and two of the most perfect specimens of manhood he'd ever laid eyes on. 

That alone was enough to make him feel he didn't quite belong, but when the _pub_ turned out to be a rather exclusive late night bar in Soho, Merlin had never felt quite so out of place before.

Morgana was clearly well-known. They were ushered inside towards a round booth marked _reserved_. And before Merlin had the chance to process just how expensive-looking the place was, and freak out about how much he couldn't afford to be there, Morgana's credit card found its way behind the bar.

Drinks were ordered and his request for _just a coke_ swiftly declined by Morgana, who smiled at the barman sweetly and told him to add a vodka to it. Merlin already had a bad feeling about how the evening would go.

As awkward as Merlin felt, he was grateful to the others for their attempts to make him feel welcome, and their efforts to include him in a conversation that was largely too full of inside jokes for him to follow. Although, Merlin could have lived without some efforts.

"So, Merlin, Ellie tells me you've stuck it out for over a month now. Arthur's not managed to scare you off yet."

Merlin opened his mouth to make some scathing reply about him not scaring easily, but it seemed Gwaine wasn't waiting for answers.

"I can see why he keeps you around, mind."

Elena gave him a jab of her elbow just as Morgana said "Shut up." 

And if that hadn't already left Merlin wishing the ground would swallow him up, the sight of Leon and Arthur crossing the bar to join them finished it off.

"Budge up, Merlin." Morgana gestured imperiously in his direction. "You've only got a skinny arse."

Merlin would have loved to protest the implied insult, because his arse wasn't that skinny, but Arthur was squeezing into the booth at his side, and they were literally pressed together hip to knee. Merlin swallowed hard and looked up – he noticed Morgana was watching them with an unholy gleam in her eye that reminded him a lot of Gwen.

Merlin's phone began buzzing at that point. He reached for it, eternally relieved it was in his right hand pocket, and not the one currently squashed against Arthur's thigh.

It was Gwen. Demanding to know where he was.

Not wanting to seem rude, Merlin fired off a quick reply and then put the phone down on the table in front of him. Less than a minute later it was vibrating madly again.

"Someone's persistent," Arthur commented – the first words they'd exchanged all evening.

"It's Gwen," Merlin replied as he clicked _read_. "She wants to know when I'll be home." What she actually wanted was details of the date she was now convinced Merlin was having with his boss, but Merlin wisely decided to keep this to himself.

"Home?" Arthur frowned a little. "I didn't realise you two lived together."

"Almost two years now," Merlin replied. Then he saw Arthur's eyebrows rise in surprise. "Not like that," Merlin added hurriedly. "We're best friends. She's not..." He tailed off then and licked his lips nervously. It didn't matter how many times he said it, he always felt slightly sick. "I'm gay."

The nerves were misplaced. Arthur just smiled. "Don't look so scared, Merlin. No one cares about that here."

Which should have made Merlin happy. And it did. All apart from that little piece of him that had rather hoped Arthur would care – quite a lot. Morgana was watching them again when he looked up and it was a little bit too knowing for Merlin's liking, so he downed the rest of his drink and then got to his feet.

Arthur looked up at him in surprise. "Something we said?"

"Toilet," Merlin replied with a nod in its general direction.

Arthur moved and Merlin made his escape. But, as he was starting to learn, nothing with Morgana was that easy.

She was loitering outside the toilets when he emerged and smiled brightly. 

"Merlin! Are you having fun?"

"Yeah, it's great." And Merlin wasn't lying – he'd never been in a bar quite this fancy before. "Thanks for inviting me."

Morgana smirked a little. It was an expression that Merlin was learning to be wary of. "It was Arthur's idea," she said.

"Arthur?" Merlin was a little stunned by that. He turned automatically to look in the direction of their table, only to find a pair of blue eyes watching him in return.

"Yes," Morgana continued. "He was most insistent."

"Oh, right." Merlin had no idea what to say to that.

Morgana stared at him for a moment longer then shook her head. "You're as bad as he is," she said, and her smile definitely wasn't as bright as before. "Come on. Let's get back before he sends out a search party."

Arthur got up as they approached and let Merlin into his seat, and when they were both seated Merlin couldn't help notice they were closer than before.

"You okay?" Arthur leant closer in a way that was both wonderful and distracting. "Morgana's not been terrifying you?"

The only thing terrifying Merlin right at that moment was the overwhelming urge to just kiss Arthur and everything else be damned. But Arthur was looking at him intently, like he was trying to see into Merlin's soul, and that really wasn't helping. And if he didn't stop soon people were going to notice. But try as he might, Merlin just couldn't be the first one to look away.

It was only when the barman placed the next tray of drinks on the table that Arthur broke the connection.

Merlin held onto his vodka and coke like it was a lifeline. Part of his brain suggested it was a very bad idea to drink anything more – considering how unused to it he was – but the other, and much more vocal part said it was the only way he would survive the night.

Merlin listened to the latter.

Several more drinks later and things had become a little livelier.

Morgana was now ensconced on Leon's lap – much to Leon's delight and Arthur's disdain. Elena and Gwaine were dancing wildly to the music, clearly not fazed by the lack of dance floor. Merlin was having a rather spirited conversation with Lance about England's chance of winning the Ashes again, while Arthur remained quiet, watchful. Merlin could feel the weight of his gaze and very nearly choked on an ice cube when Arthur's hand settled noticeably on the back of the seat around his shoulders.

The definite touch of cold metal against his neck sent a shiver through Merlin's body, and he realised that there was not enough vodka in the world to get him through the night with his sanity intact.

~~~

Merlin wanted to die.

No, scrap that. He was pretty sure he already had.

His head was pounding, his stomach churning with every breath, and there seemed to be a good inch of fur coating his tongue.

There was no way he was making it to university today.

He burrowed his head into the cool pillows and prayed for oblivion. Unfortunately, the gods appeared to be busy elsewhere, because at that moment the bedroom door opened and a grinning Gwen entered and plonked herself on the side of his bed. The resulting bounce did nothing for the nausea.

"G'way," he croaked.

"See," Gwen said brightly. "This is what happens when you go out drinking in fancy bars without your best friend."

"I'm suffering for it now."

Gwen remained silent, and when Merlin cracked open one eye he found her grinning back at him. "Have you been at your mum's Prozac again?"

"What do you remember about last night?" she asked.

Merlin has a brief flash of Arthur's face, then nothing. "Everything," he lied.

"Really? So you remember getting home and into bed, do you?"

Merlin remembered nothing of the sort. "Yes?"

Merlin's phone chose that moment to start vibrating. It was on the bedside table and he wasn't sure it was worth the effort to move for it – at least not until Gwen reached for it.

Merlin lunged, but he was no match for Gwen's unimpaired abilities. All he was left with was a throbbing head.

"It's your boyfriend," Gwen sing-songed, brandishing the phone in Merlin's face.

"Give it here." Merlin struggled into a half-sitting position – he didn't need to ask who she meant.

Gwen handed it over reluctantly, and Merlin didn't even have time to say hello before he heard:

"How's your head this morning?"

"Can't talk. I'm too busying dying."

Arthur laughed – loudly, yet strangely soothing to Merlin's frayed nerves.

"How did you get my number?" It suddenly occurred to Merlin he'd never handed it out.

"You insisted on putting it in my phone last night."

"Oh." Merlin supposed that was why he had Arthur programmed into his too. "I didn't do anything too embarrassing did I?"

More laughter. "You were the perfect gentleman."

"Good." Merlin let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding. "I'm never drinking again."

"Aww. And you were such a cuddly drunk."

Merlin flushed. He couldn't help it. "You're making that up."

"You'll never know, will you?"

"I hate you. And I hate your sister. This is all her fault."

"I'm quite comfortable with blaming Morgana," Arthur said. "You're not the first man to be led astray by her. You should stick with me; I'll look after you."

Arthur's tone was teasing, but somewhere at the back of Merlin's brain memories began to stir. He wanted to ask more, to work out what was real, but Gwen was still there and seemed to be on the verge of exploding.

"My knight in shining armour," Merlin said finally.

"Something like that," Arthur agreed. "I have to go now. We can't all laze about in bed all day – some of us have work to do."

Merlin lay back down amongst his numerous pillows. "’Kay," he said through a rather large yawn.

"You're such a lightweight. I'll see you tomorrow."

Then he was gone. And Merlin was still there with Gwen grinning at him maddeningly.

"You look like a starry-eyed teenager," she said.

"We're just friends, Gwen. Stop it."

"You really don't remember last night, do you?"

Merlin's expression in return was blank. "I'm not in the mood for guessing games."

Gwen flashed him a look which said _Don't get snippy with me_ , and given that Merlin was depending on her to supply him with food and painkillers at some point, he decided not to.

"Arthur brought you home last night," Gwen said eventually. "And put you to bed."

Merlin really didn't want to believe it was true – the possibility was just too much...something. But there was just the vague hint of a memory working loose in his brain, and he rather feared that it was.

"He's just a good friend."

A slight scowl marred Gwen's brow, a sure sign of her irritation. "He rubbed your back while you chucked up several pints of vodka. How many good friends would do that for you?"

Merlin had no answer for that. "My brain hurts too much to think right now," he said weakly, and burrowed further into his pillows.

Gwen huffed. "Fine. But don't think you're getting away with it that easily. You'll have to get up at some point, and when you do, I'll be waiting."

She left then, and shut the door with strictly more force than necessary. Merlin just tugged the duvet up over his head and wondered how the hell he was ever going to face Arthur again.

~~~

As it turned out, Merlin didn't have to face Arthur, not just yet. Because as the hangover receded it was replaced by rather unpleasant case of the flu. And Merlin knew it was bad when even Gwen referred to it as such, and didn't preface it with the word _man_.

He felt like complete and utter shit. There wasn't a part of Merlin's body that didn't ache. He was freezing cold despite the ridiculous amount of blankets and duvets on his bed, and his throat felt like he'd swallowed razor blades. All in all Merlin was feeling very sorry for himself.

"Poor baby; you look terrible." Gwen's voice was full of sympathy as she pressed one hand gently to Merlin's forehead.

Her touch was soothing and cool and Merlin leant into it a little bit.

"You're burning up. I really don't think you should go into work today."

Merlin nodded weakly. He'd already made up his mind to spend the day in bed, but now Gwen had voiced it first it wouldn't look so bad, like he was just avoiding Arthur. "Gonna call Morgana in a minute," Merlin said, or rather croaked.

Gwen searched around and finally located his phone in a pair of abandoned jeans. "Want me to call in for you?"

 _Yes_ , Merlin thought. But he knew that would only make it all the more suspicious, so he stuck one hand out from under his nest of blankets and took the phone.

"How can you be cold?" Gwen asked incredulously when she noted the resulting shiver. 

"'’M dying."

"No you're not." Gwen patted Merlin's leg. "I'll grab your fleece off the sofa for you though."

As Gwen left Merlin reluctantly dialled the restaurant's number. He wanted to do this about as much as he wanted to face Arthur.

"Pendragon's, how can I help?"

It took all of Merlin's courage not to hang up.

"Morgana, it's Merlin. I just wanted to let you know that I won't be in today. Think I've got the flu."

There was a long pause at the other end and Merlin started to think he'd been cut off.

"Morgana?"

"Merlin, don't get mad at me for this," Morgana sounded calm, but it didn't stop the sickening lurch in Merlin's stomach, "but is this about Tuesday night? You're not trying to—"

"No!" Merlin didn't mean for it to come out quite so loud and his throat definitely wasn't happy about it. "No," he repeated, softer this time. "I really am sick." As if to prove his words, a shiver racked Merlin's body at that point and his teeth began chattering.

"Sorry." Morgana didn't sound that contrite, but Merlin suspected she was one of those people who didn't really _do_ sympathy. "You do sound rough," she continued. "It's just if that's what it was, I wanted you to know there's no need. He doesn't—"

"It's not, I promise." Merlin was cut off by a bark-like cough at that point – one that left his head pounding worse than ever and his eyes full of unshed tears. "I can send photographic evidence if you like? I'm pretty sure I look like shit, too."

Morgana laughed then. "No need for that." Then added, with just the hint of concern, "Take care of yourself."

"I will." Merlin replied then gratefully ended the call. Somehow a two minute conversation had left him exhausted, and by the time Gwen returned with his Star War's snuggie, his eyes were already drifting shut.

The next time Merlin opened his eyes he was fairly sure he was hallucinating. Because there was no way that Arthur could possibly be in his bedroom. Not in the poky, untidy flat he shared with Gwen in a definitely unfashionable part of London.

So Merlin blinked a few times but his hallucination was still there. And worse, now it was smiling at him.

"I tried calling," Arthur said as if this in anyway explained anything.

Merlin peeked over the top of his blankets and watched as Arthur crossed the room.

"Gwen gave me her key."

Merlin's head felt like it was full of cotton wool, and he could process only one thought. "Why?" Only it came out as little more than a croak.

Arthur's smile was so soft it made Merlin's skin itch.

"She was worried about you. Apparently you were at death's door this morning." Arthur's hand reached out as if he were about to touch, but then seemed to think better of it. "You still look like you are."

"Where is Gwen?" Merlin didn't care if he sounded whiny. Gwen always took care of him when he was sick – who was going to bring him Lucozade now?

"She's with Lance. He's taken her to see some exhibit or other he was really excited about." Arthur shook his head. "I didn't really pay much attention," he admitted ruefully. "Anyway, she was worried about leaving you alone, so I volunteered."

Merlin's head felt like it was spinning and he was pretty sure it wasn't the flu at work. None of this made sense, but he was too tired, too poorly to try figuring it out. In fact, he felt that bad that he couldn't move himself to care that he probably looked a shocking mess and Arthur had seen him.

Arthur's hands did reach out this time, adjusting and smoothing the sheets around Merlin's body. "Have you eaten anything?"

Merlin shook his head – the bare thought of food made the stabbing pain in his throat even worse.

"How about some chicken soup."

Arthur had the kind of expression on his face that Merlin thought he'd never be able to say no to, but, "I'm vegetarian."

Arthur's lips quirked in a small smile. "Trust you to ruin a good cliché. But as luck would have it, it's actually mushroom. Gwen warned me about your weird eating habits."

Merlin didn't even protest the implied insult. "Hurts," was all he said and hoped that was enough.

Arthur's hand settled on his hip and squeezed gently. "A bit of soup won't hurt," he coaxed. "You need to keep your strength up."

Merlin wondered if Arthur was channelling his mother, and just in case he gave a slight nod of assent. "'Kay."

Arthur had clearly expected compliance because barely a minute later he was back bearing a tray.

Merlin watched as he crossed the room and set it down carefully on the bedside table. It actually smelt quite tempting.

"Right, let's get you sat up."

Merlin made a soft noise of protest. He was _comfortable_.

"You can't very well eat lying down. Unless you want me to get you a very long straw?"

Merlin figured Arthur made a valid point so he remained pliant while he was practically lifted from his cocoon and propped up against the pillows. Arthur fussed with the blankets again; making sure Merlin was wrapped up snug.

"You're not feeding me," Merlin said in horror as he realised his arms were trapped beneath the covers.

Arthur looked like he wanted to argue the point, but after a pause he nodded. "Okay, have it your way."

He set the tray on Merlin's lap as Merlin tugged his arms free. "Be careful"

Merlin inhaled the smell of soup and was forced to admit that it smelt delicious. Mushroom was his favourite flavour and he wondered if it was a lucky guess on Arthur's part or if Gwen had been talking again.

Merlin managed a few spoonfuls before he gave up. The effort of lifting his arm _and_ keeping it steady was just too tiring, and he wasn't hungry enough for that.

"You can't possibly be full."

It was on the tip of his tongue to lie, but Merlin found he just couldn't. "My arm’s tired," he admitted, flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh, Merlin." There was a mixture of exasperation and fondness in Arthur's voice, and there was a smile on his face as he perched on the bed at Merlin's side. He took the bowl from Merlin's hands and cradled it carefully. Then he scooped up a spoonful of the soup and raised it to Merlin's mouth. "Don't you go telling everyone at work I did this; they'll never let me live it down."

"Hardly like to brag about being spoon-fed, am I?"

Arthur took advantage of Merlin's parted lips and slid the spoon between them and held it there until it was clear Merlin had swallowed.

Merlin may have swallowed a little bit harder than was warranted, but Arthur was really close, and watching him so intently, and there was something almost intimate about the whole experience. And anyway he had a fever.

In the end Merlin managed about half the bowl before he leant back against the pillows and muttered, "Tired."

Arthur smiled that now familiar fond smile; He returned the soup to the tray and picked up a glass of water. "Before you do that, I've got a couple of tablets for you to take first. When Merlin raised an eyebrow in return, Arthur grinned. "Don't worry; I'm not trying to drug you."

Merlin took the tablets obediently. He wasn't usually a fan of self-medicating, but frankly he was that poorly he would have taken anything just to feel better. The fact that it was Arthur doing the asking probably didn't hurt either. 

Tablets taken, Arthur helped Merlin to lie back down again and tucked him in carefully.

"You'll make someone a great wife," Merlin commented as he burrowed into his pillows, eyes already closed.

Arthur didn't reply. He just smoothed one hand carefully over Merlin's forehead, brushing the slightly damp hair back. 

When Merlin woke up a bit later Arthur was still there. And not just in the room, but on the bed. He was propped up against the headboard tapping away on his laptop. Merlin lay there silently for a moment and just watched as his fingers moved across the keyboard.

"You're awake."

Merlin looked up guiltily and found Arthur smiling down at him.

"How d'you feel?"

"Like crap." It felt like there was a metal band currently being tightened around Merlin's chest; breathing was _not_ fun.

Arthur placed his hand on Merlin's forehead again. "You don't feel quite as hot as before. Can I get you anything?"

Merlin gave a slight shake of his head and mourned the loss of Arthur's touch. "You don't have to stay, you know? I'll be okay."

Arthur didn't say anything immediately. He leant over and placed his laptop on the floor, then shifted on the bed so he was lying on his side staring right back at Merlin. "Don't be silly, Merlin," he said. "I promised Gwen. Now get some more sleep."

Merlin wasn't sure if he imagined it or not, but as he drifted off it felt like someone was stroking his hair. He didn't want to say something and either scare Arthur or shatter the illusion, so he lay there contentedly and allowed himself to be lulled to sleep.

Arthur wasn't there the next time Merlin woke. But Gwen was, and she was watching him from the doorway with a smile on her face.

"Not a word." It would have sounded much more commanding if Merlin hadn't croaked it, but as Gwen seemed to listen for once, he'd apparently made his point.

~~~

It was another three days before Merlin returned to work, Because, as Arthur helpfully pointed out on one of his many visits, who wants their waiter coughing and spluttering all over their dinner?

In the face of his illness, Merlin's embarrassment over the whole _Arthur saw me throw up_ incident had been virtually forgotten – by all concerned. It was Arthur's recent stint as his nursemaid that was Merlin's primary concern.

He just couldn't work it out.

He was well aware that it was not standard employer/employee behaviour, but then nothing about his life had ever been standard. But it couldn't possibly mean what Gwen was so adamant that it did, because Merlin was _Merlin_ and Arthur was _Arthur_.

When he walked into _Pendragon's_ on his first day back, Merlin was reminded that whilst he may have seen Arthur since that whole embarrassingly drunk moment, he hadn't seen Morgana. Which was probably why she was waiting for him with a giant smirk on her face.

Merlin's hopes of making a quick getaway were dashed when she ushered him into the office.

"Don't look so nervous," she said as they sat either side of the desk. "I just want to make sure you're okay to come back to work."

"I'm fine, honestly." Apart from anything else, Merlin couldn't afford to take any more time off. "Good as new."

"Must be the healing properties of Arthur's soup. He spent forever making sure it was _just right_ "

Merlin's eyes widened. "He made it?"

"He's Arthur Pendragon, Merlin. Did you honestly think he would serve it out of a tin?"

Hearing it quite so bluntly it made perfect sense, but Merlin hadn't given it a second though at the time. The knowledge that Arthur had made it especially for him was as warming as the soup itself had been.

"You know," Morgana began, her voice carefully casual enough to put Merlin on edge, "I don't think I've ever seen him quite so concerned for a member of staff before."

"Probably wanted to make sure I wasn't malingering." Merlin knew it for the lie it was, but he really didn't want to be having this conversation, not now, and certainly not with Arthur's sister.

Morgana gave a shake of her head. "Yes, I'm sure that's what it was," she said in a tone that clearly implied otherwise.

"I'm sorry about taking so much time off." Merlin decided ignoring Morgana's comment was the way to go. "It won't happen again."

"It's fine." Morgana gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "These things can't be helped. I was worried for a bit there that a night out with us had finished you off."

Merlin smiled weakly – they were edging dangerously close to territory he wanted to avoid. "No. It was fun."

"Good." Morgana beamed. "So you'll come out with us again?"

Merlin couldn't have refused even if he wanted to. The prospect of another night with Arthur was just too strong a draw.

It was as if Merlin's thoughts had summoned him, because the door opened then and Arthur walked in.

"Morgana, have you seen..." Arthur tailed off when he noticed Merlin. "You're back," he said somewhat redundantly.

"So it would seem." Merlin couldn't stop the small smile that curved his lips. "Hi."

"You're sure you're well enough to be back?" Arthur looked at Merlin through slightly narrowed eyes. "Because we don't mind—"

"I'm fine, Arthur, honestly."

Arthur nodded, almost as if to himself. Then said, "Right, okay. That's good." He turned to Morgana then. "When you've got a minute I need to go over the Christmas menus with you."

When the door closed behind Arthur, Merlin turned to face Morgana again. She was watching him with an almost pitying look on her face. "You two." She shook her head. "Honestly, you're as bad as each other. Now go and find something to do before I give into the urge to lock the pair of you in the storeroom."

~~~

The next time they went out after work, Gwen went with them. 

Which was good, Merlin supposed, because at least if anyone had to cart his embarrassingly drunk arse home then it would be her. And also good because Gwen was, despite her denials, obviously besotted with Lance, and the extended invitation was a clear indication that there was mutual feeling there.

The main reason it was not so good was that it now left them a group of three couples, and Merlin and Arthur. Who, however much Gwen and Morgana insinuated otherwise, were most definitely _not_ a couple.

The same table had been reserved for them, and this time when they squashed into the booth, the presence of an extra body meant things were very snug indeed. 

When their drinks order was taken, Arthur very firmly ordered a coke for Merlin, and when the waiter had gone, leant in to say, "I'm not putting you to bed tonight."

A small part of Merlin was disappointed to hear that – although only if it had contained less alcohol and vomit this time. "Gwen's here to help me this time," he said.

Arthur glanced over to where Gwen and Lance were making eyes at each other as if they were the only people in the room. "I think you're on your own there tonight. I reckon those two have other plans."

Merlin tried very deliberately not to think about what those might be. Gwen was his best friend, yes, but the walls between their rooms were very thin, and he already knew far more about her sex life than was healthy for his peace of mind. "It doesn't bother you?" Merlin asked curiously. "A lot of bosses would frown on work place relationships."

Arthur took a sip of his drink before replying. "Can you imagine me telling Morgana that?" He nodded over to where she sat, cuddled up to Leon. "Besides," Arthur added quietly, "I'd be a bit of a hypocrite."

There was a look of intent in Arthur's eyes as he spoke and Merlin felt the familiar flush creep up his neck. He said nothing in reply, and remained silent when Arthur's arm slid round him.

The conversation carried on around the table as if nothing had happened. As if Arthur hadn't got his arm round Merlin, his fingers just brushing the waistband of Merlin's jeans. He couldn't work out if people hadn't noticed, or if they were just being polite. Then he remembered who he was with and that ruled the latter out.

"Relax." 

Merlin wanted to laugh when Arthur said that. Because, really, if he wanted Merlin to relax then he ought not to whisper quite so close to his ear. Merlin's ears might not have been his best feature, but they were certainly one of his most sensitive. And Arthur's warm breath ghosting over his skin was enough to set Merlin shivering.

"Are you cold?"

If he had been, the warmth in Arthur's voice would have warmed him up. "I'm fine." And considering that Arthur tightened his hold and pulled Merlin further into his side, fine was just a bit of an understatement.

It was hard for Merlin to act normally when his stomach felt like he was on a high wire, and it wasn't helped when he caught Gwen smiling at him in a knowing fashion. Merlin knew he was in for a world of teasing later, but at least Gwen had the sense to say nothing in Arthur's earshot.

The conversation flowed around him, but if asked, Merlin would have been hard pressed to say what they were discussing. All he could concentrate on was the way Arthur's fingers had slid under the hem of his shirt and were now stroking the small of his back. How Arthur was managing to follow the conversation much less join in he had no idea.

When Gwen and Lance sneaked off early, Merlin watched them go equal parts happy for his friend and certain his night's sleep would be disturbed.

"Told you so." Arthur dug his fingertips into Merlin's skin ever so slightly to emphasise his point.

"Looks like I'll be needing new earplugs," Merlin agreed and resisted the temptation to just lay his head down on Arthur's shoulder.

"You know," Arthur leaned in close again in that really distracting fashion. "You could always stay at mine."

Merlin's face obviously registered some of his surprise because even in the dimly lit bar he could see the colour rise in Arthur's cheeks. 

"I didn't mean...I wasn't..." Arthur stopped, gave himself a slight shake, and then said, "I wasn't propositioning you."

"More's the pity."

"Shut up, Morgana." Arthur turned to glare at his sister, while Merlin wished his legs would reach far enough to kick her shins. "You don't have to," Arthur added. 

But the problem was, Merlin _wanted_ to. Despite what his common sense said to the contrary. Because at that moment all he could think about was the warmth of Arthur's hand against his back and the way he could feel the metal of his ring pressing into his skin, marking him.

And the way Arthur was watching him, both intent and a little bit hopeful, Merlin didn't know how to say anything other than yes. He licked his lips nervously and thrilled inside as Arthur's eyes tracked the movement. Bolstered by this indication that the want was not entirely one-sided, he nodded. "Okay."

The taxi ride to Arthur's passed almost in silence. Merlin wanted badly to say something – especially now they were free from prying eyes and ears –but he had no idea how to form his feelings into words.

Either Arthur was having a similar problem or he really was as calm as his profile suggested. Which bothered Merlin more than he expected. The fact that his stomach was flipping like crazy with nerves while Arthur apparently remained unfazed made him worry that he'd got the wrong end of the stick. But he could still feel the heat of Arthur's hand against his skin so that could not be the case.

His thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt when Arthur reached out and covered Merlin's hand with his own. When Merlin looked across at him, Arthur smiled. "Whatever it is that's making you frown like that, forget it."

And strangely enough, as Merlin turned his hand over and laced their fingers tighter, that was very easy to do.

Arthur's home was not what Merlin had expected. Not that he'd given it much thought, but if pressed, he'd have said Arthur had a fancy penthouse-style flat somewhere like Docklands. This, this three storey town house, with its colour-washed walls and soft carpets, was a real _home._

And as they walked into the kitchen, Merlin said as much.

"I used to have a place like that," Arthur admitted as he walked to the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of wine and then turned to face Merlin again. "But I'm almost thirty now. Figured it was time to grow up a little. Besides," he added, reaching for the corkscrew. "It wasn't me. I was never comfortable living like that."

"This is though," Merlin said and it really wasn't a question.

"Yeah." Arthur grabbed a couple of glasses from a nearby cupboard. "It is." Then he held up the bottle to Merlin. "Think you can handle a glass?"

"Just the one," Merlin agreed, because what harm could it do? If anything, it might help him relax.

He took the drink, fingers brushing Arthur's as he did. "D'you cook much here?" Merlin asked curiously. It was a beautiful kitchen – or at least it was in his limited experience – but maybe Arthur had enough of that at work.

Arthur sipped his wine slowly then nodded. "It's not just my job, it's my..."

"Passion?" Merlin suggested. He'd seen Arthur work on many occasions now and that was the only word for it.

Arthur's tongue flicked out to wet his lips. "Passion," he repeated. "Yeah, that's exactly what it is. You'll have to come round to dinner one night; I'll wow you with my skills."

"You already have." And then Merlin flushed vividly as he realised the way his words could be taken.

Arthur watched him silently then, his gaze almost unbearably intense.

Merlin swallowed – more of a gulp really. "Arthur," he started uncertainly.

Arthur stepped forward and took Merlin's drink from his hand. He set it down on the worktop with his own.

"What...?"

"Shh." Arthur cut Merlin off. "Just let me..." Arthur never finished his sentence, but whatever it was, Merlin had no intention of stopping him.

Arthur reached out and curled his hand around the back of Merlin's neck, his fingers toying with the ends of Merlin's hair. "Tell me to stop."

Merlin shook his head slightly. "No." He needed to see where this was leading.

"Merlin, I..." Arthur's fingers slid up and tangled in Merlin's hair.

"Please." Merlin's voice came out as little more than a cracked whisper, but he was past the point of caring, because if Arthur didn't do something soon...

Arthur let out a noise of want and tugged Merlin in close. The kiss was hot and wet and a tiny bit messy but it was also the most brilliant thing Merlin had ever experienced. He placed his hands on Arthur's waist, sliding them under his jumper, desperate to _touch_.

Arthur pulled back then for a moment before pressing their foreheads together. "This isn't," he licked his lips, "I don't usually—"

It was Merlin's turn to shush this time and he did it most effectively with another kiss, taking control and sweeping his tongue against Arthur's own.

Arthur had his hands under Merlin's shirt now, blunt nails raking over the soft skin of his back. And Merlin could feel Arthur's cock, hard against this thigh. And even though his brain was addled with much more pressing matters, Merlin couldn't help thinking _I did that. He's hard because of me._ And it was intoxicating.

When Arthur's hands reached to the waistband of Merlin's jeans he stilled again. "Are you sure?" he asked, lips still only a hairs breadth from Merlin's.

Merlin nodded – he didn't think he could find the words for just _how_ sure he was if he tried.

Arthur needed no further encouragement. He took hold of Merlin's hands and led him upstairs. 

No sooner had the bedroom door banged closed behind them than Arthur had Merlin pressed up against the wall, his hands tugging insistently at the buttons on Merlin's shirt.

Merlin waited long enough for Arthur to slide the shirt down his arms but that was the limit of his patience. He reached out and pulled Arthur even closer by his own shirt, then brought their lips together in a tangible mix of passion and need.

It was only a matter of seconds before Arthur took control again. And as his tongue swept through Merlin's mouth, Arthur slid his fingers around Merlin's wrists and pinned his hands to the wall above his head.

Merlin tugged against the hold, testing, but it wasn't particularly strong. He could break free easily if he wanted to but was surprised to find just how much he _didn't_.

Then Arthur's mouth was on him again, kissing his way along Merlin's jaw and down his neck. He nipped gently at the skin along Merlin's collarbone and Merlin couldn't help but arch his back off the wall in an unspoken demand.

Arthur didn't need words to tell him what Merlin wanted, apparently. He kept Merlin's hands pinned with just one of his own, and slid the other between their bodies until his palm was pressed flat against Merlin's erection.

"Fuck!" Merlin ground shamelessly into the touch. "Please." And he was rewarded as Arthur's hands went to work unbuttoning his jeans. 

Working one-handed, it took Arthur surprisingly little time – moments later there was a clink of metal as Merlin's belt hit the floor. His jeans followed and finally Arthur released his hold on Merlin's hands and sank to his knees.

Merlin's eyes widened at the implication. Despite logically knowing where the night was heading from the moment they left the bar, he still couldn't quite believe that it was happening. He lowered his hands and reached tentatively for Arthur's hair. "You don't have to," he said quietly, despite a large part of his brain telling him to _shut the fuck up_.

Arthur turned his head and nuzzled lightly against Merlin's arm. "I really do," he said, voice sounding deeper than Merlin remembered it being. "I've wanted to do this since Gwen brought you to last year's Christmas party."

Merlin's lips formed an _o_ of surprise – it certainly hadn't seemed that way at the time – but made no further protest. He leant his head back against the wall and screwed his eyes shut in anticipation. There was a twisting in his belly as he realised that whatever this was between Arthur and him, it had the power to break hm. But he was already in too deep to stop it even if he wanted.

At the first swipe of Arthur's tongue along his cock, Merlin's eyes flew wide open again. "Fuck."

He looked down to find Arthur watching him, and there was something indefinable in that intense gaze that made Merlin's chest clench painfully. But before he had hope of forming incoherent thoughts into speech, Arthur's lips wrapped snugly around his cock and all Merlin could do was give himself over to the sensations coursing through him.

It wasn't the first blow job he'd received by any means. But those earlier fumbling attempts paled into comparison with the attentions Arthur was lavishing on him. He arched desperately off the wall, fingers scrabbling for purchase, and a whimper escaped his lips unbidden. At the rate Arthur was going, Merlin knew he wouldn't last long and he _really_ didn't want it to be over just yet.

"Can't," he gasped. "Need to..."

Fortunately for Merlin, it seemed that Arthur was also an expert at understanding incoherent ramblings. He pulled back, reluctance obvious on his face, and let Merlin's cock slip from his mouth. His hand carried on stroking Merlin slowly as he said, "Don't hold back."

Before Merlin could protest or explain that he desperately wanted to prolong it – because who knew when he might get the chance again – Arthur was on him again, his tongue working the underside of Merlin's cock in a way that rendered him speechless.

Despite Merlin's best efforts, it seemed that Arthur was determined to send him over the edge. He had one hand curled around Merlin's hip, effectively pinning him to the wall, and the other one slid between Merlin's legs, teasing up his inner thighs, before cupping his balls. 

As Arthur's hand and mouth took him to the brink, Merlin realised there was no point fighting it any longer. He reached out and buried his hands in the damp strands of Arthur's hair and tugged, guiding him further onto his cock.

Then Arthur's fingers slid further back, dipping into the cleft between Merlin's buttocks and ghosting over his puckered opening. Arthur swallowed around Merlin's cock at the same time as one fingertip breached his hole, and Merlin was lost

He bucked frantically against the hand pinning him to the wall, grunting softly, but Arthur remained focussed. He slid his finger deeper inside Merlin, slowly thrusting it back and forth, while his throat worked to swallow the bitter fluid Merlin released.

Merlin slumped against the wall. If it hadn't been for Arthur's grip on him, there was a very good chance he would have slumped to the floor instead. He felt limp, spent, but utterly content. Especially with the way Arthur's hand was stroking slowly along his thigh. 

After taking a moment to regain his senses – and the power of speech – Merlin chanced a look down at Arthur. His cheeks were flushed, lips rosy and slick with saliva, and his hair, courtesy of Merlin's fingers, was a tousled mess. But he looked more appealing in that moment than Merlin had ever seen him before, and there was no way he was ready for this to be over yet.

"Your turn," Merlin said, and gave what he hoped was a sultry smile, but in all likelihood better resembled a leer.

Arthur smiled ruefully. "Too late," he admitted, cheeks flushing even brighter. 

"You...?" Merlin unable to finish the question because the prospect was just too mind-blowing.

Arthur nodded. "I've waited a long time for that."

Now Arthur wasn't the only one with red cheeks. "Wow," was all he managed to say.

"Keep that to yourself," Arthur said, before pressing soft kisses to Merlin's belly. "You'll ruin my reputation."

Merlin reached down and tugged at Arthur's arms, guiding him to his feet. "Don't worry," he said, smile impish this time. "I plan to ruin your reputation in much more interesting ways than that."

~~~


End file.
